


Incentive

by charlesdarwininthetardis



Category: Original Work, The Webcomics Review
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Guns, Office Romance, but they're fake guns so it's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdarwininthetardis/pseuds/charlesdarwininthetardis
Summary: At this moment, Calvin found himself covered with an aggressive amount of Scotch tape tying him to an ergonomic office chair in the break room at Holistic Logistics, Inc. A man in an extremely loose-fitting black polo shirt, nondescript black dress pants, and a black bandana over his face paced in front of him. Everything about this situation was so ridiculous that Calvin wondered once again just how he had gotten here.
Kudos: 3





	Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for The Webcomics Review's "Write a Story You Worthless Piece of Shit Weekend Jamboree," a weekly 48-hour writing contest. This particular rendition of the contest ran between 8PM on Friday, September 4th and 8PM on Sunday, September 6th. 
> 
> The prompt was "A high-stakes crime drama forces a wimpy office worker to finally confess to their crush."
> 
> Thanks to @CorundumBleu for encouraging me to get off my butt, make some art, and enter this contest!

Calvin Peterson woke up this morning with a pretty good idea of what his day was going to look like. He also had a pretty good idea of what his week was going to look like, and - and this isn’t even that big of a stretch - his year, too, if you asked.

Some might say that this is because Calvin Peterson is a boring person, but he just really appreciates the value of a good plan. Long ago, he discovered that having solid, measurable goals with specific action items and quantifiable results was the key to accomplishing anything, and he has since utilized this technique in all aspects of his life: Calvin has plans for achieving all the major milestones in his life mapped out in 15-minute increments. He knows his weekly meetings, his scheduled bathroom breaks, his corporate ladder progression plan, his romantic strategy, the list goes on.

This was, admittedly, not part of the plan.

Because at this moment, Calvin found himself covered with an aggressive amount of Scotch tape used to tie him to an ergonomic office chair in the break room at Holistic Logistics, Inc. The smell of burnt coffee and vanilla coconut antiseptic wafted through the room, and the distant sound of white noise machines, office chatter, and someone angrily kicking the printer crept in through the closed door. A man in an extremely loose-fitting black polo shirt, nondescript black dress pants, and a black bandana over his face paced in front of him.

Calvin was fairly certain that he had never seen this man before, but if you asked, he could not back up that certainty with any assertion because he is currently scared out of his wits. He’s been _tied up_ by a _man_ with a _gun,_ so hopefully you can forgive him for not thinking quite straight at the moment. 

Calvin was also fairly certain that this current situation will interfere with his extremely important strategic planning meeting scheduled in a mere thirty minutes. Attending this meeting is his topmost priority, primarily because this meeting is the first in a series of secondary meetings that will establish the projected economic trajectory of Holistic Logistics, Inc. for the next five years, and secondarily because this meeting will be led by the proficiency of the inimitable Jen Taylor- 

“What are we going to do with you?”

The voice was almost comically low, in no way natural and most definitely successful in disguising its owner’s true voice. The man in the bandana stopped his pacing and eyed Calvin, who glanced back at his general direction before averting his eyes. 

The man in the bandana waited for a moment, then sighed and asked again, more forcefully this time. “I said, ‘What are we going to do with you?’”

Ah, so this wasn’t a typical villain’s monologue. This villain wanted a response. Not that Calvin had one to give. “I don’t know,” Calvin mumbled, mentally thinking back to any interaction he would have had with another person that would have left such a bad impression for him to end up here. He was drawing a blank, and for good reason - Calvin Peterson was so bland and generally agreeable that no one had any reason to dislike him, let alone tie him to a chair in the break room.

“You don’t know? I expected a bit more creativity in your answer than _that_ .” The man in the bandana absentmindedly inspected his gun. “At least assert that you did nothing wrong. Or ask me to let you go. Or _something._ ”

Calvin eyed the gun warily, as a sort of response.

“Here’s a different question for you: Out of all the people in this office, why do you think I singled _you_ out to be taken hostage?” The man in the bandana raised a singular eyebrow.

This was a great question - Calvin wasn’t high ranking in the company by any means. He had no confidential knowledge, minimal influence, and he spent most meetings observing and taking notes in the background as opposed to actually contributing. Calvin tilted his head as the man voiced the thought that had been with him for the past couple of minutes and repeated his previous response, a little stronger this time. “I don’t know.”

The man in the bandana leaned against a table and shook his head. “You don’t know? See, that’s the problem with you, Calvin. You’re a weak, spineless fool. You-”

Fear finally giving way to curiosity, Calvin to finally look up, his watery blue gaze meeting the man in the bandana’s inscrutable black eyes for the first time in this encounter. “I’m sorry, but how do you know my name?”

The man in the bandana threw his head back and laughed. “Because this is an intervention, Calvin!” He crowed, gesturing wildly with the hand that held the gun.

“No, be careful, the gun!” Calvin whimpered, unable to hear that last sentence due to his inability to take his eyes from this weapon of destruction that his captor seemed too careless to take care of.

“Oh, this old thing? It’s useless anyway.” And the man in the bandana threw the gun on the ground, Calvin crying out in protest as it landed and… did not trigger. “It’s a prop, Calvin. For dramatic effect.”

Sure enough, now that the gun was not being waved around in someone’s hand, Calvin was finally able to get able to get a steady enough look at it to confirm that yes, it was indeed a child’s toy that had been used to terrorize him.

“Why…?”

“Because, Calvin, consider this an incentive.” The man in the bandana gestured at the toy with his chin. “I need you to do something. For me. No, for you. I need you to do something for _you_.”

Now that his captor was no longer brandishing a gun, Calvin was finally able to think somewhat clearly, or at least gain the courage to start asking questions. “What are you talking about? What is happening? Who are you? And what do you want from me?”

The man in the bandana chuckled again, this time dropping the attempt to sound deeper to avoid revealing his true identity. “You mean you can’t figure it out?”

And with all pretense stripped away, Calvin could finally place that voice.

“Mike?!”

The man pulled the bandana down around his neck, revealing a wickedly mischievous grin belonging to none other than Mike Williams, one of Calvin’s colleagues in the accounting department. 

“Hello, Calvin.”

“Mike, what, why- why were you brandishing a fake gun at me?”

“Because this is the only way I could convince you to actually listen to me and take some action.”

“What could you possibly need me to do that justifies you tying me to a chair? With Scotch tape??”

“Two words for you, Calvin: Jen Taylor.”

Of all the answers Calvin expected to hear from Mike, this was not it.

Mike continued, “Ask her out.”

“WHAT?”

“Ask her out, or I’ll tell her you like her. Or else.”

Calvin looked around the room and reassessed the situation. His body, uncomfortably taped to a rolling chair. The gun prop, useless on the floor and lying several feet away from both of them. Mike standing in front of him, looking deadly serious in office attire but with a ridiculous-looking bandana tied around his neck. Everything about this situation was so ridiculous that he just had to take the bait. “Or else what?”

“Or else I won’t approve your purchase request.” 

Now _that_ was low. If Mike rejected Calvin’s purchase request, his entire initial strategic plan would be delayed for weeks, nay, _months_. And Mike knew it too, because Calvin had never heard him sound so serious.

“You wouldn’t,” Calvin said meekly.

Mike merely raised an eyebrow. “I would.”

“But… why?”

Mike sighed. “Because this is too painful to witness, Calvin. Watching you silently pine after her in every strategic meeting we have together. Watching you defending her mediocre project management skills whenever anyone dares say a word against her. Watching her laugh at your awful jokes. Watching her drink all of the - frankly _terrible_ \- coffee you keep making for her. She’s the only one who can ever finish it. It’s obvious she likes you back. Why won’t you just ask her out already?”

“I… I had a plan. I was working on it.” And he did! He was going to ask out Jen once he had successfully managed and completed 3+ projects of varying scope and had been promoted to the role of assistant assistant manager in the planning department of Holistic Logistics, Inc. If he set his mind to it, he could complete that milestone in a little over nine months, and then he would be successful enough for even Jen Taylor to consider him as an asset to add to her life.

“No, buddy. No, you don’t.” Mike walked to kneel in front of Calvin, forcing him to meet Mike with eye contact. “You say you have a plan, you say that you have these milestones to hit before you can be deemed worthy enough for Jen to date you, but that’s not how it works. She likes you _now._ She wants you _now._ As you are. You will never see yourself as ‘good enough’ for her if you keep chasing these arbitrary resume bullet point achievements that don’t mean anything. And if you wait too long, she’s going to give up and move on.” 

Mike tried to maintain eye contact, but Calvin broke his gaze. “How do you know she’ll say yes?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t, Calvin. I don’t know for certain, but I’ve been watching you two dance around each other for long enough to have a pretty good idea of what she might say. And no matter what she does say, I can guarantee that a definite answer is going to be better than not knowing. You need to put yourself out there, because currently you’re procrastinating because you’re scared. And that’s helping no one. You’re a good guy, Calvin. You just need a little push sometimes.”

“And you’re providing that push.”

“Yes.”

“...Was the whole hostage situation really necessary?”

Mike’s mischievous grin returned. “Yes. Yes, it was. Because now you’re never going to forget what I just told you.” And because masterminding this whole charade was fun, but that was implied.

Calvin had to admit, he had a point there.

Mike glanced at his watch and releveled his gaze at Calvin. “So. I’m going to untie you now. And you’re going to go to that strategic planning meeting. And you’re going to ask out Jen Taylor. And then I will approve your purchase request. And we all will be better for it. Jen will have a good boyfriend. You’ll have your funding _and_ your girl, and I won’t have to watch you two pine after each other from across a conference table.” Mike paused, waiting for an answer. 

Ah, so this wasn’t a typical motivational monologue. Mike wanted a response. So Calvin steeled himself, looked Mike in the eyes - of his own accord this time - and nodded. Satisfied, Mike untied Calvin, ripped the scotch tape off of his arms and shirt, and brushed him off before clapping him on the back and sending him on his way to the conference room.

Calvin stood outside the door for a moment, staring it down before he faced his moment of reckoning. He caught a glimpse of Jen Taylor already in the room, busy connecting her laptop to the projector and paying him no mind, and he steeled himself to prepare for what he was about to do, nine months ahead of his original schedule. Then, Calvin Peterson took a deep breath and walked into the conference room, ready for the first time in his life to manage his fate.


End file.
